To bleed out
on this exact spot,
to learn the honesty of blood,
what a gift that would be,
dead before your full bloom,
petals sticky and still tucked
before unfurling,
sprouts of pubic hair
nodding small whiskers
on white flesh the
sun has never seen,
your lower half no different
than the upper,
an open bazaar,
a relief map of carnage,
a tarmac for wolves so famished
they’ll shred anything,
even young boys
not yet nine.
But the death you so crave
is nothing but a flirt,
a cock tease,
blue-balled and as arrogant
as the days it soft-pedals to suckers.
You can bleed all you want,
scream all you want.
The only one who’ll hear
is death,
and he’s already left the room.

Len Kuntz is a writer from Washington State and the author of four books, most recently the story collection, This is Why I Need You, out now from Ravenna Press. You can find more of his writing at https://lenkuntz.blogspot.com.

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